Page 49 of Since Day One

“No,” I cut him off, dropping my hands and stroking Luke’s nose. “It’s fine, there’s just a lot on my mind, but I think my family troubles have finally been handled.” As I said the words, it rang true. Not an ounce of frustration lingered toward them, and I felt so ready to end that chapter of my life. Why, then, did I feel so sick about it?

“Oh?” he asked with a quick glance at the bunkhouse and tilted his head. I nodded, offering him a small smile, and decided to let things go concerning Gunnar too. If he didn’t want to talk about it, then it didn’t need to be talked about.

“I literally just told my dad that he was a stranger to me and I wanted nothing from him.” Gunnar raised his brows in surprise.

“So, you didn’t need a knight in shining armor to ride in on a white horse and rescue you?” he asked.

“No, just one in denim riding a blue roan,” I answered with a slightly hysterical giggle, and he grinned. Leaning down, he extended an arm, and I used it to hoist myself behind him. Gunnar spurred Luke forward and rode toward the stall barn instead of the arena, then brought his horse to a complete stop before helping me slide down to the ground.

“What are we doing here?” I asked as Gunnar dropped into the snow beside me.

“Feeding. It’s dinner time. Haven’t you noticed that there is no sun in the sky anymore?” He gestured around himself, and I finally took a moment to glance at my surroundings. A thick, white blanket covered everything. The cold breeze whispered over the frozen snow, sawing through my bones. Stars already sparkled against the night sky, casting a soft glow against the quiet, dark canvas stretching around me.

Gunnar chuckled and slid open the barn door, letting a gush of warm air and the smell of hay wash over me. He leaned close, his mouth brushing against my ear before he spoke. “You look and smell really nice.”

The faint pulsing low in my core snuck back in.

I watched him lead Luke into the barn and couldn’t help but think the same thing about him. Part of me would miss seeing him in gray sweats and no shirt, but this look was just as appealing. Maybe the earlier silence was his attempt to sort through how to handle our return to the real world. Which was something I was still trying to figure out, because I couldn’t deny the desire that I’d felt, both as I watched him ride toward me earlier and now as he walked away.

This was a really nice view; so, I pulled out my phone and took a picture of a cowboy and his horse. If he had one of me, it was only fair that I got one of him. Adjusting the lighting a little so it wasn’t so harsh, and bringing Gunnar and Luke into sharper focus, I set it as my lock screen and shoved it into my pocket. Now I was ready to help him feed the horses before dinner.

Chapter 18

Dinner that didn’t come from cans was rather nice, especially since everything else felt confusing. Smoke curled into the clear night sky from the fire the hands and I sat around. Gunnar parked himself down in the chair right next to me but didn’t utter a word or look in my direction. My heart pattered uncomfortably, but not from his presence, not from the fact he seemed unbothered by the silence between us, and not from the fact that Rob and Carsen did nothing but shoot Gunnar and I suspicious glares. No, it had everything to do with the swirling feelings roaring deep within me. An undeniable desire for the man who bantered easily like the best of friends with his brother. He continually set my pulse alight, so much so that I ignored the fact that Ruger did tease him a little for his attachment.

Soaking in the Wyoming weather, I leaned back in the chair and took in the snow-covered fields. Something both beautiful and deadly was a rare combination that I basked in. My mind raced, contemplating how grateful I was that my family ate inside and how almost no one seemed to notice much difference in Gunnar’s and my companionship since we acted mostly like this before we were snowed in together. But I, achingly, knew just how different it was.

The ranch hands slowly trickled in for the night, and my family, giving us the cold shoulder, had turned in by the time the chill really soaked into my bones. Gunnar lingered as Ruger and his beautiful wife, Jesse, disappeared, as well, leaving us alone, staring at the crackling fire that sent red and orange embers sparking into the air.

He didn’t speak, and nor did I. I was so unsure of what to say. If I confessed that I was afraid that I would lose him, would it scare him away? If I confessed that I wanted him in more ways than he could imagine, would he run? I couldn’t really ask for any of that anyway, seeing as my time here was temporary, and if those words were spoken into existence, what about me? How would I react to such a selfish request? I needed time.

Standing up from my seat before he could say anything, I took a deep breath and forced a tight smile on my face. “Goodnight, Gunnar,” I mumbled and walked away. This time I entered the lodge through the sliding back patio doors making sure that he was out of sight by the time the tear slid down my cheek. I paused in the glorious rustic kitchen, the long black island countertop stretching away to my left.

Several log dining tables were set up along the left side of the room I passed through into the living room. A massive Hereford cowhide stretched over the floor between the enormous leather sectional and recliners that faced the stone fireplace, which rose up to the vaulted ceiling and was lit within by the last glowing coals. We were told the door to my right was Gunnar’s parents’ portion of the lodge and it was off-limits.

I rushed past the set of wooden stairs leading to the private upstairs, the knots in its polished timbers reminding me of old-fashioned cabins that always seemed to be decorated with bears. Pushing through the dimly lit entrance and back out onto the cold porch, I could hear the empty swing creaking in the chilly breeze.

When I reached the bunkhouse, it took every ounce of strength in me to enter, knowing that I was about to walk into the lion’s den, except everyone was already curled up in bed, and judging from the soft snores, they were fast asleep. Working in the dark, I changed into Gunnar’s button-up and crawled under the covers, waiting for sleep to take over.

Beyond tired, I tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable, and only managed to doze off once for less than half an hour. It was cold, and I was lonely. There was an unnatural emptiness around me, and I missed the solace of Gunnar’s warmth and his arms around me in darkness.

Finally, when I could deal with it no longer, I got up and threw on the jeans I’d only worn for a bit yesterday, then picked a thick, beige knitted sweater and pulled it over my head. Tucking the oversized hemline into my pants, I buckled them up and quietly crept across the bunkhouse.

Without a peep, I was outside with the beanie on my head and my black coat unzipped. Tugging my boots on, I shoved my cold hands into my pockets and crept down to the pasture’s fence line. No glow came from the lodge; the only thing offering any light through the absolute darkness was the bold moon overhead. Cold, empty, and silent—exactly like how I was feeling.

The frozen rod of the fence bit through my forearms as I leaned on it. Tucking my hands into the ends of the sleeves and cradling them against my chest, I held a heavy breath deep in my lungs. Slowly, I blew through pursed lips.

Why couldn’t I have let Gunnar say something?

At least the band-aid would’ve been ripped off if I’d just let him say his piece. But I knew the answer to my own question: because those boundaries are there to protect me, to keep me from heartbreak. Unexpected heartbreak that I wasn’t prepared to deal with, and yet, here I was, in the middle of the night unable to sleep, still feeling disappointment.

The sound of snow crunching to my left snapped me out of my pitiful thoughts, and I squinted along the path of moonlight reflecting on the snow. Gunnar, his gray sweatpants tucked into his boots and his thick Carhartt hood slumped over his head, walked directly to me. I turned back to the world of shadows in front of me, hiding away.

He stopped beside me and leaned against the railing of the fence as well, his arm against mine, not saying anything.

Not at first.

I watched him from my periphery.

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